Hope's Discovery (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY)

by Marie, Bernadette

  “You are one amazing man.” Trevor grinned. “Let’s go.”

  Bryce had a way with people—or a keen skill in lying. The cute young nurse at the station was baffled by the bull he’d produced that he and Trevor were sons of a previous marriage and wanted to see their father. By the end of the conversation, Bryce had touched her hand, complimented her on her hair, had her phone number, and Trevor was walking through the curtain to see Donald Buchanan.

  Buchanan lay unconscious. His ICU bay was empty of visitors.

  The nurse, hot on Bryce’s trail, followed them into the bay. “He had bypass surgery yesterday, so he’s still out. But his vitals are good,” she said as she checked the monitors by his side. “I can’t let you stay long, but…”

  “Where’s his wife?” Trevor asked.

  The nurse shrugged. “She left after the surgery and said she’d be out of town for a few days.”

  That caught Trevor in the gut. Where would she have to go while her beloved was dying? “Did she say where she was going?”

  The young nurse shook her head. “She only left a number in case we needed to get in touch with her.”

  Trevor looked at Bryce. How to get the number? The nurse would be suspicious of two guys who claimed not to know the cell number of their stepmother. “See, I told you we should have told her we were coming.”

  Bryce shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, bro. My mistake.”

  Ah, he was good, Trevor thought. But that still didn’t get them the number. Unless… “The phone number she gave you, is it her new cell phone number?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if it’s a new number.”

  “Probably is. She lost her old phone and had to get a new one. Didn’t even think to keep the old number. You know how stepmothers are. They only think of themselves.”

  The nurse nodded. “I can get it for you.”

  “Would you?” Bryce smiled with a wink and one more touch on the arm of the baffled nurse. “We’d really appreciate that. You might be able to tell, she doesn’t accept us much.”

  “I understand.” The nurse shook her head. “My stepmother is the same way. I’m not her child, but she seems to forget I’m the child of her husband.”

  “Exactly,” Trevor added. “We’ll leave him to rest if you can get us that number.”

  “Oh, sure.” She smiled and walked out of the room.

  Bryce and Trevor exchanged glances before the nurse returned with the number.

  “Thanks.” Bryce smiled as he put the number in his shirt pocket. “I really appreciate it. I’ll give you a call, okay?”

  “Great. Bye.” She gave him a flirty wave and Trevor shook his head.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered as they hurried out of the hospital.

  Hope blew out a ragged breath as Thomas made his third walk through the store in as many hours.

  “You’re going to start scaring away my guests.” She huffed.

  “Customers. And I’m just looking out for you. This has me freaked out and it should have you freaked out too.”

  “This has nothing to do with me, Thomas.”

  “He has something to do with you.” His eyebrows were raised in warning.

  “You sound like my sister.”

  “For good reason.” He moved in and hugged her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I like Trevor. Don’t get me wrong. But if he’s into something where someone is hitting him from the front, back, and side…I don’t want you involved.”

  Hoped tapped her foot and frowned. “Thomas, I am involved.” She grabbed the lapel of his sports coat and gave it a tug. “I love him,” she whispered.

  “I know you do, and that’s why I want to keep you safe.” He gave her hand a pat as the door opened to the store. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  She shook her head with a laugh. “Okay.” She watched as he walked out the door and then she turned to the woman who had walked in. “Hi.”

  “Hello,” she said back in a cool and precise tone.

  “Can I help you find anything specific?” Hope asked as she moved behind the counter.

  “Oh, I’m just in town visiting an old friend and I saw your store. I just thought I’d poke my head in.” The woman took a sweeping look of the walls. “Are you the artist who does all the painting?”

  “Yes. It’s my passion.”

  “My late husband was an artist. He worked with all mediums.”

  “I prefer oils, but I do have a lot of fun with watercolors and charcoals as you can see.” Hope smiled, pleased with her own talents.

  “Is your father or mother an artist?”

  “No. My father is a retired airline pilot and my mother teaches cello. But she used to tour with Pablo DiAngelo before I was born.”

  The woman nodded, and Hope felt a pang of disappointment. Usually the mere mention that her mother toured with the vocal legend had people smiling and commenting on how they loved his voice and his music. But this woman wasn’t impressed.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” Hope asked, finally remembering her policy of guest versus customers.

  “Oh, no thank you. I must be going. Will you be open tomorrow?” The woman pushed her black purse into the crook of her arm and raised her brows as she waited for Hope to answer.

  “Yes. I open at ten.”

  “Wonderful. I think I’ll stop by then and look around again.”

  The woman walked toward the door, her black high heels tapping out an uncomfortable beat against the tile floor.

  When the door closed, Hope let out a breath. Customers who walked in off the street didn’t make Hope uncomfortable, but that woman had. She wouldn’t at all be disappointed if the woman didn’t return.

  Trevor pulled into traffic and headed into town. “We have to find her.”

  “Already on it. Head south. Their house is only eight miles away,” Bryce said, never looking up from his iPhone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cross referencing the phone number, moron . How do you do your job?” He peeked at him from over his sunglasses.

  “I guess I rely on you and my mother to do it for me.”

  “Duh! Again, I say, duh!”

  That made Trevor laugh. He was going to miss Bryce when he moved to Kansas City to be with Hope. The very thought made him smile. And then panic filled his body. He wanted to get this solved and get back to her. He didn’t want anything happening to her while he was gone. But just to make sure, and not alarm her, he called Thomas.

  “Things are normal.” Thomas sounded tense. “She’s pissed at me because I’ve been over there every hour since she opened and I made her drive with me to work today.”

  “Thanks for taking care of her. I really don’t think there’s anything for her to worry about…”

  “But you want to make sure.”

  “Yes.” He was grateful that Thomas understood. “Don’t tell her I called. She’ll get mad if I check in on her too.”

  “She’s as stubborn as her sister, and that, my friend, doesn’t get shared either.”

  “Lips are sealed.”

  “Good. Be careful, Trevor.”

  “Thanks. Bye.”

  He pulled in front of the brownstone that matched the address Bryce had found.

  “I was expecting something bigger.” Bryce removed his glasses.

  “It’s what’s inside.” Trevor pulled the keys from the ignition and they both headed up the steps.

  Trevor rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. There was no movement. Cupping his hand around his eyes, Trevor tried to peer into the windows, but the drapes were drawn.

  “Yep, she’s outta town,” Bryce said with a cluck of his tongue. “Maybe she’s already out spending her husband’s money.”

  “Husband’s money,” Trevor said as he headed back to the car.

  “Oh, you have a light bulb over your head.” Bryce pulled open his door and slid into the car. “What’s up?”

  Trevor started the car
. “He paid me six thousand dollars to get to know his daughter.”

  “And she just found out it was missing?”

  “And sent to my hotel.”

  “,Look at you with all the women chasing you.” Bryce put his sunglasses back on. “Now where are we going?”

  “While we’re in the city we’re going to make one more stop and talk to one more woman.”

  “Yeah, you’re going to talk to the redhead, whose name is Patricia, by the way.”

  “Okay, so I have two stops.” Trevor grunted as he headed toward Ruth Marlow’s house.

  One of the things Trevor had learned about Mandy Marlow was that she never got far from home, no matter where she called home at the time.

  Ruth Marlow’s modest home was a mere twenty minutes from the home of Donald Buchanan’s.

  Trevor stood at the door. His mouth had gone dry. He’d spoken to Ruth Marlow before, and Carissa had warned him that she was a nasty woman. So he knew he was taking his life into his own hands by showing up on her doorstep.

  The moment she opened the door he knew he had the right house. As eerie as it was, Hope’s eyes stared back at him from behind lids that were aged by years and smoking.

  Hope also carried her biological grandmother’s stature. Short and curvy.

  “Yes?” Her voice was softer than he’d remembered it to be when he’d spoken to her and he was very afraid to tell her who he was.

  “Ruth Marlow?”

  “Who’s asking?” Her eyes narrowed and suddenly she didn’t look like Hope at all.

  “We spoke on the phone a month or so ago. My name is Trevor Jacobs.”

  Her eyes flew open with the mention of his name and her lips pursed. “Mr. Jacobs, I told you last month that I had nothing more to tell you.”

  “Yes,” he said quickly. “And I know you don’t want to talk about your daughter, but I have a feeling that she is in danger and I need some more information.”

  She didn’t talk right away. “This long and she’s still causing problems for her children she gave up?”

  “Mrs. Marlow,” he said softly, knowing he had only one piece of evidence that perhaps Ruth didn’t know about since she carried such disdain for her own daughter. “Are you aware that Mandy died some twenty-three years ago?”

  She held the door open and backed into the house offering him a silent invitation. He glanced back at the car to Bryce to give him a solemn nod.

  Ruth walked toward the back of the house to the small kitchen and she sat down at the table by the window. Her eyes had grown distant and her shoulders hunched.

  “Are you all right?” Trevor asked as he pulled out the chair across from her and took a seat. She nodded. “Did you know she died?”

  Ruth looked up at him, her eyes moist with tears that refused to fall. “I heard, but I don’t think I believed it.”

  “Why would you not believe news like that?”

  She shrugged. “You didn’t know Mandy.”

  Trevor nodded and eased back into his chair, waiting for her to speak.

  “I told you the last time I’d seen her she came here with a baby. She was eighteen years old and she was looking for money.” She pulled a napkin from the holder on the table and dabbed at her eyes. “When I received the letter that said she’d died, I assumed she was trying to scam more money.”

  “Someone sent you a letter about her death?”

  “Yes. A woman. Let’s see…” She shook her head and frowned. “K. Birdman, Burkman…”

  “Burkhalter?” Trevor asked, his heart racing in his chest.

  “Burkhalter.” She smiled. “Yes, that was it. K. Burkhalter.”

  “Just K? No name?”

  “No. But the writing was distinctively female and, from what I could tell, I would venture to guess old.”

  Trevor could hardly breathe. Hope’s own grandmother had contacted Mandy’s mother.

  “May I ask you what the letter said exactly?”

  “Well it said something about her having another baby. And that the baby would be safe and living with her sister. Mandy’s other baby, I assumed. Though they would have been many, many years apart. I figured it was vague enough that she’d put someone up to it to get money. I didn’t realize this person was telling the truth.”

  “Had she ever contacted you after she came looking for money?”

  “Mandy? No. But that girl she had did once. Maybe twenty-five years ago. I told her to go away and never call me again. Mandy was using her to get to me.”

  “She said that?” He lifted his brows. The conversation he’d had with Carissa was quite different.

  “Well… No. I guess she didn’t really say that. She said she was Mandy’s daughter and she wanted to meet me.”

  “Mrs. Marlow, I didn’t come to tell you your daughter died. I’m very sorry that this is how you had to find out the truth.”

  “Why are you here, then, if she’s not after money?”

  He blew out a ragged breath. “She did have another daughter, twenty-three years ago. She had an affair with a married man and the baby was a product of that. Does the name Donald Buchanan ring a bell to you?”

  Ruth’s head lifted and her eyes widened. “Donald Buchanan?” Trevor nodded. “Well yes, I know who he is. He was my husband’s business partner forty years ago.”

  Trevor’s head began to spin. The world was becoming a much smaller place, and all of his answers seemed to lie with Ruth Marlow.

  “So you are familiar with Delores Buchanan?”

  “Nasty woman,” she said with a shake of her head. “I never did like her.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Not too long ago really, maybe a month ago. She ran into me at the antique store my niece runs. My niece had gone to lunch and I was covering for her. She came in as if she owned the place with her little black purse and red nail polish. She asked me about my husband and I told her he died some years back, but now that I think about it, Donald was at the funeral. She would have known that.” She lifted her head.

  He could feel his tongue swell. Things were falling quickly into place. “How long ago, exactly did your husband die?”

  “Twenty-four years ago,” she said as her voice drifted off. “Oh dear. Mandy must have known that and been there, though I didn’t see her.”

  Trevor shrugged. “Was Delores there?”

  “No. She didn’t get along with my husband or me for that matter. But Donald was there. Do you think Mandy was trying to get money from the company after my husband died? She had to have known Donald would assume the other half of the company. I never had an interest in the company.”

  “I don’t have those answers, Mrs. Marlow. All I know is that Donald Buchanan is in the hospital recovering from bypass surgery and his wife has left town. I also know that about a month ago he came to my office to ask me to find Mandy.”

  “He didn’t know she had died either?”

  Trevor shook his head. “Somehow he’d come into the knowledge that there might have been a child born from their affair.”

  Ruth nodded. “I am so sorry that my daughter could stir up so much trouble.”

  “With all due respect, I don’t think she’s stirred up any problems. I think either Donald or Delores Buchanan have something to hide, and I have to figure out what it is before they get to Hope.”

  “Hope?” she asked, and Trevor realized he’d been thinking aloud.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mention…”

  “Is that the daughter of Mandy and Donald?” she asked, and Trevor nodded. Brightness came into her eyes and her lips softened into a thin smile. “What is her sister’s name?”

  “Carissa.”

  Ruth nodded. “She called me once.”

  “So you said.”

  “I wasn’t very nice to her. Maybe I should have been.”

  “You had your reasons. If it’s any consolation to you, they were raised by a fine man.”

  “Do I know him?�
��

  He gave some thought to telling her his name, but he couldn’t help but like the woman who had once made him fear the very thought of doing his job. “David Kendal.”

  Her eyes opened wide again. “David Kendal is Carissa’s father?”

  “You know him?”

  “He flew for the charter company my husband and Donald used all the time. My husband was very fond of him. That would have been where Mandy met him. We’d often meet him when his plane would come in. David Kendal was one of my husband’s favorite pilots.”

  “You were unaware that he was the father of your daughter’s first child?”

  “We were very upset. I don’t suppose it would have mattered much then,” she said as she looked out the window next to her. “You know Mandy’s daughters?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And they are good people?”

  “I don’t think you’d find better.”

  She kept her stare out the window. He watched her as she chewed on her lip. “She was an artist, my Mandy. Did you know that?” Trevor shook his head. “So was Donald if I remember correctly,” she added. “When she was twelve she won a district art competition.” The tears were back, but the look was different. There was joy in her face. She’d remembered something good about the daughter she’d all but forgotten about.

  “Mrs. Marlow.” He cleared his throat. “Would you be interested in meeting the girls?”

  “Oh, no,” she answered quickly. “No. They don’t need me in their lives. I’ve always blamed myself for the way Mandy turned out. I couldn’t suddenly show up and say ‘Hi, I’m your grandmother.’ I’m sure they had a wonderful grandmother.”

  K. Burkhalter, Trevor thought. From what he’d heard, she was a wonderful grandmother.

  “If you change your mind, or if you think of any other reason Donald or Delores Buchanan might have gone looking for Mandy, would you call me?” He took his business card from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “I will.”

  “Thank you.” Trevor stood and Ruth followed.

  “Mr. Jacobs, I’d like to give you something. Would you mind waiting a moment?”

  “I can wait.” Trevor watched her slowly walk down the hallway to what he assumed was a bedroom.

  Ruth wasn’t gone long and when she returned she carried with her a box. It wasn’t a large box, but the way she carried it he knew it was full.